Fireflies

Chapter 8: Memory Lane

SAGE
June 2nd

I woke up in my own bed with a throbbing something fierce coming out of the side of my head. I dared to open my eyes but the sunlight proved to be too bright. I groaned and turn my body towards the wall - away from the light.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness once more, dark and blurry images flashed across my mind. The figures were barely recognizable but their actions were clear.

What the hell happened last night?

"SAGE!"

Just when I thought I could drown these thoughts in even more sleep I was mistaken. I heard my mother's voice loud and clear through the confusion.

"SAGE!"

She was closer now. At the door. It creaked open as she poked her head in. She must have heard my grumble because she offered a ''Sage" in a lowered tone.

"Now I know you're hurtin' right now, but you've got a five year old down there waiting for you to take her to school."

Oh shit. Lucy.

I groaned again. "I'm up, Ma. Just give me a minute."

"I'll give you a minute, but that's all you get. Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I say four beers."

I didn't get a chance to retort. She quietly closed the door and disappeared down the hall as quiet as she came.

I rolled over and swung my knees over the bed. "Get it together," I spoke to myself.

Two minutes and 30 seconds later I found myself bounding down the stairs clad in a pair of ripped Levi's and a black "Endless Summer" tank. I pulled my trucker's hat really low as I approached the bright kitchen and heard my girls chatting.

"Last bite, Lucey Goose. It's time to go."

"But I don't see Sagey."

I chose that moment to intervene. "ARGGGGGH!" I growled. "Sage is gone. I ate him up just like I"m going to do to YOU!"

Lucey dropped the small piece of toast in her hand and giggled uncontrollably. "Alright now," Mama said. "Get on with it."

I was glad for the reprieve because any exorbitant use of energy left me hurting. I was also thankful that Lucy wasn't observant enough to notice my grimace when I picked her up. "Momma's right! Let's go little monster."

"Here you go, Sage." My mom tossed me a water bottle that I deftly caught. "Thanks." I winked at her and smiled.

"Here we go!" I said tucking Lucy underneath my arm and swinging her backpack around the other. We made our way out of the door into the brilliant sunlight.

The warm breeze had a comforting effect. I inhaled deeply willing the hangover away. I unlatched a pair of RayBans from the front of my shirt and pushed them over my eyes.

"Ready Sage?" I heard the wind-chimes of her voice and smiled. I had to think quick. Lucy was expecting a race.

"Hey Goose? Instead of running I was think we could do something different today."

She cocked her little head; her golden curls tumbled to the side. "Whatdya mean?"

"Here. Climb on my back," I said. I crouched and Lucy nimbly climbed my back. When I was sure she was secure, I rose, feeling a little bit heavier. 

"Now, princess. Oi am y'r faithful steed. Where would thou fancy a lift to?" I asked changing my voice to what I perceived to be a gnarly British one.

Lucy giggled. "What's a steed?"

I broke character for a moment. "It's an amazingly powerful horse. Now," I said changing back, "Where to?"

Catching on, Lily cried out, "TO KINDERGARTEN!! THAT WAY, HURRY, HURRY!" she urged and dug her little heels into my sides.

I neighed, kicked at the dirt a bit and set off in a really slow jog that suited Lucy just fine.

* * *

"Howdy," I offered to Sherry while Lucy slid off of my back.

She smiled warmly. "How are you, Mr. Walker. Lucy."

If she was out late last night, it didn't show. Her skin was just as radiant as ever. Her light hair was coifed into some kind of side bun at the nape of her neck. Her cream blouse was high collared but modestly cut to reveal just a touch a cleavage. I'd seen that blouse before. I'd taken off that blouse before.

Lucy attached herself to Sherry's leg. "Hi, Ms. Maple." Sherry affectionately rubbed the top of Lucy's curls and then ushered her inside.

She didn't move to follow Lucy which meant she wanted to talk. 

"Hey," I uttered nonchalantly.

"Hey you," she said softly, looking away for a moment. "What happened to you last night?"

"Good question," I chuckled. "Guess I had one to many brews."

"I bet. I waited for you for awhile you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry 'bout that. LIke I said...I was kind of out of it. Where were you by the way?"

"I walked back to your truck."

"Well I'll be..."

"Mmhmm, now you know. For next time, that is."

I nodded and smiled having nothing else to say. A silence passed between us, one bordering on awkward. I didn't do awkward.

I moved to open my mouth when she beat me to the punch.

"Sage, listen. There's this thing coming up and I was wondering if you-"

Blessed be. My phone rang and interrupted her mid-sentence.

"Can you hold on for a minute?" I asked. I quickly pushed the phone against my ear. "This could be important."

I pretended to listen very carefully as Kid let loose a string of curse words. Before he abruptly hung up the phone, he grunted and said, "Get yur ass over here."

The one sided conversation didn't last long. I hung up the phone and looked towards Sherry who'd waited so patiently.

"Listen, I gotta go see about Kid. I'll see you later and then you can tell me what you were gonna say. Awright? Plus, I want to make up for last night." I winked.

She smiled at this. "You're out of your mind you know that?"

I stepped closer, allowing my glasses to slide down my nose. "Only for you, Ms. Maple."

Her sweet laughter floated across the little playground. "I'll be looking forward to it, Mr. Walker. Now get."

An hour later I found myself sitting in one of Kid's wooden chairs on his front lawn sipping a cold one.

He grunted a greeting and said, "What happened to you last night, dude?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I admitted. 

"Well you came back into the clearing and you looked like you'd seen a ghost. Then you booted and I figured it was party over for you."

"Aw come on, man. I couldn't have been that bad."

"I mean you kinda sorta were. You kept muttering something about Brent. You just kept saying, "Brent...what the fuck..."

For the life of me I couldn't remember why. What had I seen in the woods and what did it have to do with Brent?

"Yeah, well if only I could remember." I took a long swig.

"Listen, bud," Kid gave my shoulder a strong squeeze. "Sometimes these things are best forgotten, 'specially when it comes to your brothers. You prolly don't wanna remember."

He was right about that.

"Alright, well. Sorry if I ruined your night with you havin' to tuck me in and all."

"Puh-leeze. This old geezer still got some anyways."

I chuckled at this. A comfortable silence fell and we both listened to the soft shushing of the trees.

"You know what was weird?" Kid asked softly.

"Tell me."

 Kid stared off into the distance. His hair fell across his face and he didn't bother to move it. He spoke finally. "Conor. You know. Him being there and all. Didn't expect that."

"Nah, dude. I stopped by Marge's and told her to tell Conor to stop by."

"Oh yeah? Well it's still weird to see him looking all jacked up. Remember him in high school? All nerdy and shit. Never had a girlfriend if you know what that mean..."

This unsettled me a bit. "Yeah, well I'm sure with the way he looks now he's got no problems in that department."

Kid grunted. "I guess that's the way it goes."

I nodded because there was nothing more to say on the subject. I was grateful for the silence that passed between Kid and I. It gave me time to think about Conor.  I had been too busy dicking around last night to chat with the guy.

Kid was right. Conor was different. Very different from the Conor we once knew. While we weren't great friends in high school I had always admired the kid. He was fearless. Despite the taunting and teasing, the incessant bullying, he still kept his head held high. He seemed un-phased by the constant pranks.

That wasn't the only thing that drew me to Conor though. No, it wasn't his tenacity. It wasn't even the connection our families had, what with Marge going to school with my mom and what not. No, it was the fact that, at times, I felt like I could relate to him. Growing up we'd both been tormented by the same person: Tucker - that shit head.

Well, let me be clear. It wasn't that Tucker went around throwing old Conor in the thrash can. It was that he allowed his friends to do it. Conor and I were freshman when Tuck was a senior. Tucker could care less about my existence. He never really acknowledged Conor but I had no idea why his friends latched onto him like bees to a honeycomb. They never let up. Until that day we found Conor on the road. After that, they all stopped fucking with Conor. It had to do something with Brent. It just had to.

I remember that day so clearly...

It was a warm spring day. Brent picked me up from school really late. We were in my dad's old Chevy pick up truck trudging along McGregor Road when we happened upon a sluggish Conor. His arms fell limp to his side making his backpack drag along the dirt road. A closer look would reveal Conor's bloodied nose dripping down his torn t-shirt. The once white shirt was grayish brown with streaks of red where he must have used the hem to stem the blood flow from his nose.

Brent immediately pulled over on the side of the road and rolled down the window. "HEY!" he bellowed. Conor visibly flinched as if someone had struck him. Until then his head had been bent so low, it's a wonder he hadn't fallen over. "You alright?!"

Conor didn't respond. He moved a bit quicker now. He crossed the road and walked past the truck. I stayed in the car and stared at Conor, bewildered. What the fuck happened to him?  It was all I could think about.

Brent got out of the car this time and jogged towards Conor. For a second, I thought Conor would run. I craned my neck even further to see what would happen. My fingers dug into the headrest of the leather driver's seat. Brent caught up to Conor and walked a few paces to Conor's left. I'd seen this before. It was how I'd seen Tucker deal with skittish fillies on the farm. In order to avoid be kicked by the animal's hooves, he'd circle around it in a wide arc speaking soothing words until the animal calmed. It seemed Brent was doing the same to Conor. I couldn't hear what Brent was saying, but I recognized, by the slow extension of his hands as if in surrender, that Brent was trying to convince him of something. I wasn't sure of what, but I do know that Conor never said a word.

This continued for a moment - the walking and soft talking and gestures. I looked away for a moment to see if anyone else was coming down the road. There was no one. When I looked back, to my surprise, I saw Brent walking back towards the car carrying Conor's backpack over his shoulder. A pale Conor followed about a few feet behind him.

I blanched and shifted around in my seat trying to figure out where he would go. Should I get out and let him slide in so that he could sit in the middle? Or should I just move over and let him sit next to the window? You know...just in case he wanted to boot or something.  It didn't take me long to decide because the decision was made for me. Brent threw the backpack in the back of the truck on my side. Conor walked timidly to the my side of the truck and hesitated before grabbing the handle.

"Go on," I heard Brent encourage softly. That was all Conor needed to get a firm grip on the handle and tug. We were face to face then. I couldn't tell who was more scared - me or him. His eyes were striking - a piercing blue that made the blacks of his pupil seem unnatural. He stared back at me and made no move to enter the truck.

"Move over, dumbass!" I jumped in my skin. Brent had startled me. I hadn't even heard when he got back in the truck.

"Oh yeah. Sorry." I nervously chuckled. Conor climbed in, closed the door of the vehicle and seemed to mold himself into it. He was so far to the right of the vehicle that it made sitting in the middle seem awkward. Conor trained his eyes to the window and didn't move them. He stared at everything and nothing at all.

Brent started the truck and, with a jerk, we were off. My eyes volleyed in between the two beings on either side of me. Both seemed content in the silence. Meanwhile my mind was racing. What the fuck was going on? It seemed like no one had the decency to fill me on anything. And they just expected me to sit here. I folded my arms and "coughed" softly. I got nothing. No response. Brent kept his eyes on the road and Conor didn't even bat an eyelash.

Fine.

We pulled up to the start of our driveway but didn't turn in. Instead, Brent stopped and gripped the steering wheel. Suddenly, he turned to me and barked, "Go on, Sage. Get!"

I stared at him for a few seconds -- dumbfounded.

"Didn't you hear me boy? I said GET," he paused and stared at me. Then as if to clarify, he said, "I need to take him home." He didn't even look at the HIM in question. Instead his eyes bore into mine for emphasis, as if his tone weren't clear enough.

This was the second time he had ordered me out this damned truck. I was beyond annoyed.

"Well who's gonna let me out then?" I huffed angrily. Conor stirred for the first time since the truck had moved. I saw his pale hand stretch for the door handle, but Brent interrupted his actions.

"My side, Sage."

Like lightening, Brent swung opened his door and slid out of the driver side. I clumsily made my way over the gears and past the steering wheel. I jumped down and didn't bother saying anything to my brother. Instead I listened to my harsh steps against the gravel in order to quell the blood rushing to my head. I willed the angry heat flushing my face to go away as I made my way up the windy driveway alone.

I never did find out what happened with Conor. Brent never breathed a word to me about the incident -- not that I ever brought it up. I felt too awkward about it. And Conor? I saw him the next day at school and he barely looked at me. He uttered a weak "hey" and kept it moving -- like nothing happened. That was also the day Tucker and his friends stopped messing with Conor for good.

A ringing brought me out of my restless thoughts. My cell phone. Startled, I looked to my right where Kid was sitting. He too was deep in thought and didn't seem to mind my daydreaming.

"Yellow!"

"Son," my father's deep voice reverberated in my ear.

"Yeah pop."

"I need you to come in today. Need your help with something."

"Well alright then. Give me 20 minutes. That cool?"

"Yes sir. See you in a bit."

"What was that about?" Kid inquired.

"Good question. Not sure. Pops said he needs some help. Maybe he needs help luring the goats to sleep and wants me to bring my guitar." 

Kid snorted and chucked his empty bottle into a nearby trash bin. I rose from the wooden chair and dusted off my jeans.

"I'll be seeing you?"

Kid responded, "In your dreams, pretty boy." This garnered a laugh and the tipping of my trucker's hat towards the lanky seated figure before me.

"See you later."

Instead of cutting through town to get over to Walker Farm, I took the backroads instead. It was early afternoon and there was a beautiful light filtering through the trees. I let the windows down on both sides and took in the sweet smell of pine and moist earth. The wind ruffled my curls. The birds beckoned.

I tried to keep my eyes forward but they continued to drift in between the trees. I squinted a bit trying to remember, trying to get a glimpse of something...anything that could get me to remember what I saw last night. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to Brent about his whereabouts at the party last night, so maybe I'd have to do something else.

But what could I do? I peered forward again and turned the steering wheel left. A frail wooden sign as big as a car windshield stood erect a couple of yards away; it read, "Welcome to Walker Farm." And just as clear as the sign itself, the idea came to me.

I'd have to spy on Brent. I've never done it before. Never had a reason too. In fact, I'd been pretty uninterested in Brent's life, but maybe that was the problem. Maybe there was something I was missing. Maybe this missing piece would help me understand why we weren't as close as brothers should be.

I didn't know. All I knew is that there was this nagging suspicion that something was up with Brent. Oh, and where was Tucker in all of this? Surely he had to know something. But knowing Tucker, his head was probably too far up Amy's ass to really pay attention.

I pulled into the lot near the barn like building that held my father's office and sat in the car for a moment. I peered into the mirror and clucked my teeth; the Walker men were some kinda dysfunctional.
Once inside I eagerly sought out my father. My stride slowed as I approached Brent's office. The door was closed. That was a surprise; It was before the 4:00 closing time. Whenever I came to see my father I could always count on Brent being at his desk typing away -- handling some "business thing." Tucker's office was on the other side of the building and I didn't bother going over there to see what he was up to.

I approached my father's office and peered through the open door. "Pop, you need something?"

My dad sat hunched over his desk, his nose buried deep in paperwork. His glasses dangled precariously at the tip of his nose as he shiftly quickly back and forth between documents.

"Sage," he murmurred, "Sit. Sit."

He barely looked at me. He was so focused on the papers in front of him. Another unusual occurrence. My father never bothered with paperwork. That was Brent's job.

"Dad. DAD." I spoke sharply to get his attention. Finally, his faded blues met mine. "What's up?"

"Listen, Sage. I know that you've been wanting make yourself more useful around the farm. Well, today's your lucky day. I might need you to help out after all."